"She did not see you?"
"I do not think so."
Poirot leaned forward.
"And what did her face look like, Mademoiselle?"
"She was in a condition of considerable emotion."
Race and Poirot exchanged a quick glance.
"And then?" Race prompted.
"Miss Otterbourne went away round the stern of the boat and I returned to bed."
There was a knock at the door and the Manager entered.
He carried in his hand a dripping bundle.
"We've got it, Colonel."
Race took the package. He unwrapped fold after fold of sodden velvet.
Out of it fell a coarse handkerchief, faintly stained with pink, wrapped round a small pearl-handled pistol.
Race gave Poirot a glance of slightly malicious triumph.
"You see," he said, "my idea was right.
It was thrown overboard." He held the pistol out on the palm of his hand. "What do you say, Monsieur Poirot?
Is this the pistol you saw at the Cataract Hotel that night?"
Poirot examined it carefully; then he said quietly:
"Yes - that is it.
There is the ornamental work on it - and the initials J.B.
It is an article de luxe, a very feminine production, but it is none the less a lethal weapon."
"Twenty-two," murmured Race.
He took out the clip. "Two bullets fired.
Yes, there doesn't seem much doubt about it."
Miss Van Schuyler coughed significantly.
"And what about my stole?" she demanded.
"Your stole, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, that is my velvet stole you have here."
Race picked up the dripping folds of material.
"This is yours, Miss Van Schuyler?"
"Certainly it's mine!" the old lady snapped. "I missed it last night.
I was asking everyone if they'd seen it."
Poirot questioned Race with a glance, and the latter gave a slight nod of assent.
"Where did you see it last, Miss Van Schuyler?"
"I had it in the saloon yesterday evening.
When I came to go to bed I could not find it anywhere."
Race said quietly,
"You realize what it's been used for?" He spread it out, indicating with a finger the scorching and several small holes. "The murderer wrapped it round the pistol to deaden the noise of the shot."
"Impertinence!" snapped Miss Van Schuyler.
The colour rose in her wizened cheeks.
Race said,
"I shall be glad, Miss Van Schuyler, if you will tell me the extent of your previous acquaintance with Mrs Doyle."
"There was no previous acquaintance."
"But you knew of her?"
"I knew who she was, of course."
"But your families were not acquainted?"
"As a family we have always prided ourselves on being exclusive, Colonel Race.
My dear mother would never have dreamed of calling upon any of the Hartz family, who, outside their wealth, were nobodies."
"That is all you have to say, Miss Van Schuyler?"
"I have nothing to add to what I have told you.